


swimming with the sharks

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Death Threats, First Meetings, Guns, House Being House, M/M, pre-House/Alvie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Alvie steals a suitcase from a rich-looking man, and ends up with three guns pointed at his head.





	swimming with the sharks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mxsicalpup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxsicalpup/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the prices we pay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002032) by [dnc31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnc31/pseuds/dnc31). 



> fills the 'fork in the road' square in my trope bingo card. a prompt fill; ive had this au in my head, and it was highly inspired by my friend's hamilton fic that's in a very similar vein.
> 
> i might write more ficlets for this au. who knows.
> 
> enjoy!

Alvie doesn't think much about it. He sees a taller black man, with a tailored suit and an important aura to him. And most important, he sees the suitcase at his side. It looks heavy, and the man's appearance screams that he's loaded. Maybe it's stupid- maybe he'll end up in prison for this. But hey, his situation is already going from bad to worse.

A white woman- long brunette hair and eyes and a gentle aura around her, talks to the black man hurriedly before leaving. He follows her, his grip not so tight on the suitcase. It doesn't have wheels- he's holding it himself. After a few minutes of watching the pair, the black man leaves the suitcase on the ground, his hand off it.

Alvie draws in a breath and speeds towards them. He takes the suitcase when the black man looks deep in thought, and bolts towards another place, his step quick and the case feeling all too fucking heavy. His breathing is elaborated, and he stops at an alley, thinking that he wasn't seen. That he was successful on stealing a suitcase from someone that's probably bathing in money.

He's about to reach to open it when a gun cocks. And another, and another.

"What the fuck?" A white man with dirty blond hair down to his chin says, voice charged with an Australian accent. "How'd this kid even get your-- Foreman, you alright on that front? What the hell?"

"Shut up, Chase," the black man- Foreman- snarls. "We've got the kid. Nothing's gonna happen to us." Alvie draws in a shaky breath and looks up at the two men and the woman, all of them pointing guns at his head. He can't escape this- he's gonna get a bullet to his temple, and it won't be pleasing, but it'll be over quick.

He didn't expect all of his life to end in a dirty alleyway, with what he assumes to be a mafia member's suitcase at his side. He draws in a shaky breath.

"How'd you get it, boy?" The white man asks, not pulling the gun down. "How'd you steal Foreman's suitcase? Was he not keeping attention to it? Gotta inform the boss, y'know, can't let Foreman go without reprimand--"

"Could you cut it out and let the kid answer before he dies?" Foreman exclaims, peeved.

Chase rolls his eyes. "Sorry, kid. Answer."

"I- well, I saw that he was talking with uh, that woman-" he looks at the white woman, the one who hasn't spoken yet, her finger ghosting over the trigger. "And I had kept my eyes on his- on his, uh, on his suitcase, and then he stopped holding it, and he seemed deep in conversation, so I just..."

"You took it," the white woman interrupts. "And then bolted towards here." 

Alvie swallows thickly. His time's running out, and he has no way to change that, no way to make it stop, no way to make his time in this Earth run for longer. Well, at least he'll get to know what's there after death. He's always wondered. "Uh-huh."

"Good job on that, boy," Chase says, stepping away. "Cameron," he turns to the white woman, "will you do the honors?"

"Of course, Robert." She flashes him a smile, and Alvie's a little nauseous.

Is this really how's it all going to end?

"One..."

Foreman fiddles with his gun. Chase's eyes are as cold as ice. Cameron's fingers twitch against the trigger.

"Two..."

"Hold your fucking fire!" A man exclaims, and all the guns are pulled down.

"Boss?!" Chase exclaims.

He's taller than any of the others, Alvie notices. Six foot something- icy blue eyes that pierce into Chase's with ease as he stares him down. Stubble of a few days, short graying thinning hair. He has a cane, clutching at it with his left hand, and he slouches a little and yet still looks so intimidating.

The boss- the boss of the mob, the mafia, whatever these men belong to.

"You all are some fucking idiots," the boss says, limping towards Alvie, settling in between him and his escape route. "He has the abilities to steal from one of you, and your solution to him existing is shooting him?" 

"Boss," Cameron starts, "we didn't think you'd accept a skinny twenty-something Latino-"

"Oh, you take me for racist now?" the boss says mockingly, his head tilting towards Foreman. "He's here, y'know."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Well." The boss cups Alvie's cheek, and he's left even more speechless than he already was, his lips parting as he examines him. "Dirty hair. Probably poor, probably stealing to survive."

"I'm not-" Alvie quips, and the boss digs his fingers onto his cheek. He keeps quiet, breathes hard, looks up at him.

"You can't escape now," the boss says. Chase racks through his pockets and a pair of handcuffs are put around Alvie's wrists. The cold metal is highly uncomfortable, but he deals. He could be dead right now if the boss hadn't intervened. "If you make one move to escape, you'll be shot dead. So that begs the question..."

Cameron shifts uncomfortably before hiding her gun on her pocket and heading somewhere. Alvie doesn't ask what, doesn't even wonder it inside his head. He has bigger matters to worry about.

"Are you going to join me, or are you going to die by my hand?" Alvie thinks for a second. Joining the mob means a lot of things, but one of them is safety. Not from the law, surely- but from everything else. A warm bed, food, a way to protect himself, a safety net he can fall back onto. It's a fucked up way of looking at the goddamn mob, but he's never claimed to be normal.

Alvie draws in a shaky breath. "I will join you." His voice is almost steady. Almost.

The boss' lips curl upward into a smile. "Good," he says. "You can call me House. Or just 'boss' or 'sir', if you're feeling professional." A car drives up to the alley- Cameron is driving. Alvie's mouth feels like it's full of cotton, and he can't muster up a word.

House leads him to the car, keeps a hand steady on his side. "What's your name, my boy?" he asks as he sits on the back seat with him, close to him. Foreman takes the other part of the backseat, and Chase sits on the passenger's seat. There's air freshener, and the car looks pretty new, pretty recent. The air freshener is of pine.

Foreman has a knowing look in his face, and Alvie ignores the shiver down his spine when House calls him his boy.

"Juan Alvarez," he says softly, his head thrumming, thinking too many things at the same time. He's joining the mob, and he won't be living on the streets but he will also be doing many, many illegal things. His ancestors and his mother are, most likely, looking down on him. Well, too bad. He'd rather do this than die on a dirty alleyway.

He swallows; House's eyes are striking and beautiful, haunting. He looks down at him, searches his face. He tries to keep his fear out of his expression, tries to ignore how hard his heart beats, how much he feels like he'll regret this. Everything's gonna be okay, everything's gonna be fine and really, really, really illegal.

"My name is Juan Alvarez, sir," he manages to say. "But you can just call me Alvie."

House smiles- barely a quirk of his lips, but a smile nonetheless. "I'll stick to calling you my boy."

Cameron draws in a breath- Alvie can see her rolling her eyes from the rear-view mirror. She starts the car.

Alvie wonders if he'll be killed on the spot if he tells his friends from Puerto Rico all about this.


End file.
